


Not The Shoes!

by Benedicthiddleston



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Badass Jack, Badass Mac, Failing miserably, Mac trying to save the day, Robbery, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 04:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18025037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: Mac encounters a robbery-in-progress on his day off. Insert everything that could go wrong going wrong!





	Not The Shoes!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impossiblepluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/gifts).



> For my beautiful friend Impossiblepluto!!! *blows kisses*

Angus Jackson MacGyver felt like death warmed over. He had been wandering the pharmaceutical aisles at the local Walgreens for over ten minutes. His head hurt, his stomach ached, and he swore up and down he had no memory of the literal train that had obviously barreled into him at some point in the past twenty-four hours.

The team had been running non-stop the past three weeks, one critical mission after another. Mac had slept in his own bed a total of ten hours over the past twenty-three days, and six of them had been early that morning. They had arrived home exhausted and desperate for sleep. Mac, and Riley, had trouble sleeping on planes, so the exhaustion was apparent. He wouldn’t disregard a flu diagnosis – he felt like crap. Headache, abdominal cramping, muscles aches and pains, and building nausea coupled with a tickle in his throat.

Shivering where he stood, Mac squinted at the blurring titles of stacks upon stacks of medicine bottles. All he wanted was some Tylenol for the obvious fever and to knock out the aches and pains for a few hours. His bed was calling to him like a siren – warm, comforting, a good long sleep.

A piercing scream echoed from the front of the store. Mac was alert instantly, eyes wide and tracking towards the sound. _Cash registers._ He crouched, pain and exhaustion forgotten in an instant. _Female scream. Fear. Danger_. How he had hoped to go home and sleep for twenty-hours, maybe work on his motorbike, still occupying space in the living room.

Another scream followed by shattering glass.

“Gimme all the cash in the register or he gets a bullet!”

Mac internally winced. _Robbery – damn it_. A mop of blond hair peered over the medicine aisles, blue eyes searching across the many aisles separating Mac and the cashiers. Quick surveillance told Mac there were two black-clad individuals in front of cashier three, a red-faced and obviously terrified older woman quickly shoving bills into an equally black bag. Thing One held a walkie-talkie in their hand while Thing Two shoved a standard-issue Glock into the ribs of a shaking younger male employee.

When Mac had walked into the pharmacy, there had been three employees and two other customers milling about at seven thirty in the morning. Out of the corner of his eye, Mac saw one customer plastered into a corner near the fridges, eyes wide in fear. The other customer had disappeared into the public restroom a few seconds prior to the inconvenient hold-up. The missing employee wasn’t visible, which sent a spike of worry through Mac’s spine. Was the guy in on the robbery? Was he in the back, oblivious to what was going on? Or was something more sinister going on?

Returning to a crouch, Mac cataloged the fact that Thing One didn’t seem to have a gun on them. _Good_. Half a plan ruminated around in his half-tired brain as he started down the aisle towards the grocery section of the store. _Of course, this would happen on my day off. And no Jack!_

He reached the fridges in less than a minute, the terrified customer hyperventilating, face pale and drawn. Mac held out a hand to silence any exclamation or comment.

“Get down on the ground and head for the bathrooms. Do you have a phone?”

Fear kept the customer standing, eyes wide and not comprehending anything Mac was asking. _Shock_. Mac gently held out a hand, a smile on his lips. Eyes fervently searching around, the customer dropped to their knees, hands grasping Mac’s lifeline.

“I’m Mac. You?”

“Ch-Cheryl,” the woman stammered, breathing still erratic as she spoke.

“Cheryl, do you have a phone?”

She nodded, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out a shiny iPhone 8. She tried to hand it to him, but he waved her off.

“Get to the bathrooms and call 911. I’m gonna distract the robbers, try to assess the cashier.”

As he spoke, Mac was quickly pulling items off the shelf nearby, eyes watching, ears listening to the commotion up front. The cashier was still packing up the money, and it seemed no one had spoken or at least yelled in the past five minutes. _Small mercies_.

Cheryl clutched her phone and then bolted before Mac could tell her what to do for the third time. He hoped she called 911. If not her, then maybe the other customer. Mac’s cell phone was in the Jeep – he had thought this shopping excursion wouldn’t be long.

Moving with silent stealth, Mac positioned himself two aisles away from the cashiers and the robbers, body out of sight. Quick work of his plan meant shaking this bottle and dumping these candies into the foam and then throwing the soda at the robbers. It was what he had to work with on short notice. _Improvise_.

He peeked around the edge of a shelf, eyes finding the cashier moving to another register, Thing Two still shoving a gun into the second employee, and Thing One – _gone. Crap_. He was just about to sit back on his heels, calculating how he had lost one of the robbers when –

Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire and then instantly numb. Mac couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak as his body hit the ground, muscles contracting painfully. His eyes rolled painfully in their sockets and only a split-second glance registered in his brain what was going on. _Thing One._

The robber sneered, shoving the taser forcefully against Mac’s exposed neck one more time for good measure before releasing the electrical shock. Mac sucked in a breath, eyesight and feeling coming back with a vengeance.

“Trying to save the day, huh, tough guy? Not today.”

Mac could only glare, his mind trying to restart, his lungs attempting to suck in a breath. _Ow_.

Thing One gripped Mac by his hair, pulling him back to a kneeling position none too kindly. “Heroics aren’t appreciated.

“She almost done, George?!”

Thing Two – now named George – grunted from where he still held a now struggling employee. “Almost. Get a move on, lady or he gets a bullet!”

The cashier swore, a loud bang ringing across the store as she slammed a register and angrily headed for the last register.

Thing One shoved Mac out of the aisle, a well-placed foot connecting with Mac’s unprotected abdomen. He grunted, pain spasming through his torso, nausea threatening to turn into something more serious. Another kick hit the mark on his ribs, then his chest. Trying to protect himself, Mac curled his arms around himself, struggling to take a breath. Thing One sneered, a foot planting firmly on Mac’s chest.

“What are we gonna do about this one?” Thing One gave the blond a good long stare, lips curled in a perpetual sneer.

George waved the gun around in the air, shrugging as he pushed the male employee to his knees. “Shoot ‘em? They’ve seen too much.” The gun pointed with marked precision at the back of the employee’s head, a thin smirk on George’s lips. “Well –“

Mac regained enough of his senses to grasp the situation. _Not today, assholes_. He was up off the ground, out of Thing One’s grasp, and launching himself at George before anyone knew what was happening. A carefully placed punch to the head knocked the robber to the ground, the male employee screaming and scrambling towards the safety of the cashier counter. The gun skittered across the ground, spinning wildly.

Mac almost got another punch in, eyes searching for the gun instantaneously, when Thing One connected the taser to Mac’s flailing form. He didn’t even feel George slip from his grasp. Didn’t see the gun come up, aimed precisely for his head.

But the shot never came. Shouting suffocated the store, slowly registering in his brain as the taser’s effects minimalized and dissipated. The pain returned with a vengeance and before Mac knew what was happening, his stomach rebelled. Vomit spewed across the ground, aimed for the pair of shoes crouching near him. They looked – familiar.

“Good god, kid! Why do you always have to ruin a new pair of shoes?!”

Eyes tracked upwards, a ragged face of salt-and-pepper beard and greying brown hair staring down at him. The commotion around them was the Phoenix Tactical team, cuffing the two robbers and assisting employees and customers. Mac wanted to shake his head, wondering how in the world Phoenix knew where he was, let alone knew he was in trouble. But the nausea was intense, his throat spasming with another bout of vomit.

“Always aiming for the shoes,” the older man muttered gently gripping Mac’s shoulders and helping him to sit up.

Mac curled over his abdomen, mind swimming in dizziness, eyes blurring and almost blacking out. “J-J-Jack,” he started to say, one hand reaching up to grasp his partner’s tac vest. _Help_. Fingers only brushed fabric before the blinding pain stole his consciousness.

Jack had a limp Mac in his arms in an instant. “MEDIC!” He screamed, arms clutching precious cargo. _Fuck._ His boy was pale, soaked in sweat, and now obviously in serious condition. _What did you get yourself into, kid?_

* * *

Four hours later, after a rushed debrief and throwing the two robbers into a jail cell, the key shockingly thrown away without a second thought, Jack found himself sitting in another uncomfortable hospital chair. He nursed a mediocre cup of coffee, eyes weary. It was barely noon and Jack felt like he had been awake for decades. The kid in the hospital bed before him tended to do that, repeatedly.

He had been sound asleep when the phone call came that Mac was in trouble. Not even twenty minutes later, Jack had been in a Walgreens, vomit all over his shoes from a sickly-green Mac. Then his kid had passed out. A flurry of attention crashed upon them and Mac was whisked away in an ambulance.

Thirty minutes of tense pacing in the Phoenix Medical waiting room led to the report that Mac had ruptured his appendix and needed emergency surgery. Bozer had arrived at Medical by that time, consenting for the procedure in Mac’s place. The poor kid hadn’t regained consciousness since the pharmacy, which worried Dr. Lawrence about infection and further complications.

Thankfully, the surgery went without a hitch and Mac was tucked into a bed at Phoenix Medical under constant Jack supervision, along with around-the-clock nursing care. Seeing his kid, his partner, looking so small in that bed – Jack sighed, running a hand across his three-week-old beard. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to shave since they had returned from their latest op. Sleep had been far more appealing, and then this disaster happened.

Mac mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, his head shifting minutely against the pillow. The kid was going to wake up with the surprise of a lifetime – two abdominal drains to suck out infection, a wicked incisional line from sternum to navel, and a nasogastric tube sticking out his nose to decompress his stomach. Not to mention the two taser marks that could possibly leave permanent scars, and a plethora of bruising. Only Angus MacGyver could walk into a store for one item and end up trying to dismantle a robbery in progress. Some things _never_ changed.

Jack would be at Mac’s side through the rough of recovery. They had all needed some time off after the past three weeks, but Jack hadn’t exactly expected it to be forced rest. Antibiotics, fluids, and wound care were in Mac’s future. Jack already was silently groaning at the arguments sure to surface as Mac grew frustrated with his injuries and constant mother-henning.

It would be a few more hours before Mac even so much as thought about waking up, and Jack was desperate for more sleep. He settled into the chair, yawning. A small smile crept onto his face, eyes wandering over Mac’s sleeping form.  

“You’re a disaster, bud. But you’re my disaster.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anyone or anything that you recognize.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! Kudos and comments are always appreciated :) Love, Danielle


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